Cirque Du Freak: Russia's Freak
by Renmasia
Summary: Anya has run away from her life in Russia, hoping to find less persecution for her, condition, in America. Here she finds the odd Cirque Du Freak and elusive Mr.Tall who's willing to take her in. The cirque and it's performers allow Anya to let go of her social anxiety, and a caring Evra Von shows her attention she's never experienced before. Rated T for content in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Reviews much welcome! Hope you enjoy.**

**Chapter 1**

Winter cast a white snowfall over a brilliant Red Square, Russia. St. Basil's Cathedral sat

in the center of it all, emitting a seemingly innocent legality imposed over the secondary buildings. The snow stopped, the skies having been bled dry of all frozen splendor.

Anya shook the snow globe again, eager to see the violent flurries cascade over her homeland. She clutched her few belongings in a backpack on her lap, as if she could absorb them, never have to worry about losing the few things she valued in the world. The cabin was empty, except for her. Alone, again. But that's okay. Always alone. She nervously tapped her foot against the floor, her shoes and socks in disarray under her seat. She felt her neck. Three slits on each side. Perfectly aligned. Odd feet; Mottled. Smooth green scaled ankles, legs, hips. Freak.

Just a lost, alone, freak.

She brought a fuzzy sleeved wrist to her eyes, wiping away makeup. It was near bedtime anyway, no bother looking nice for sleep. The corridor looked empty, so Anya stripped out of the rest of her clothes, save bra and panties, and put on long underwear and a long-sleeved tunic. Both dark. Easier to overlook.

She unbolted the fold out bed from the ceiling and swung it down, locking it in place. The door separating her cabin from the corridor wouldn't lock, so she gathered her belongings to take in bed with her. Anya hugged the cheap steamship blankets close to her. The single porthole showed night, but she wasn't terribly sleepy. Nothing to do now. She put her earphones in and played some MCR. Black Parade. Not relaxing, but easy to think to.

She hated having to leave. Russia had been less than exemplary in criminal activity and cleanliness, but it was the only home she had ever known. A loose job as a carny had earned her the money to get out. Away. To America.

America seemed a decent choice. Constitutional rights and all that. Less of a Secret Police complex to it. She didn't know where she'd go exactly; Anya planned on backpacking around until she stumbled upon a homely spot, or until she ran out of money. Four grand waded up in a ziplock bag in the bottom of her backpack wouldn't last forever. Apprehension nipped at the edges of her stomach. While safer, there was no promise of being exempt from the persecution that followed her because of the, condition, she had been born in.

No one stayed around long enough to see the beauty of it. They would see her freak legs and freak feet, then leave. Nobody wanted to be associated with a freak.

Freak.

Alone.

Lost.

Sixteen and freaky and all alone.

There wasn't a soul in the world that knew where she was, or cared.

But it's okay, she thrived just fine alone, vocality had never been one of her strongholds. Years of being told off for being "deformed" had taken it's toll; social phobia engraved in the deepest synapses of her brain. Everyone judges, everyone is full of lies. She hated to be dramatic, and all mellow and stuff, but it was true.

Just like love, it was true.

She missed the ocean, even though it was closer than ever outside the walls of the ship.

The boat kept a steady bumpy rhythm: lulling. Sleep couldn't be too far off now. All of this deep, heartbreak crap was wearing on her. Time to lighten up. Boys. Those things are pretty nice. Not that Anya had ever been in love or anything, even had a boyfriend, but the topic was mindless, easy to get lost in. Easy to fall asleep to.

And sleep came.


	2. Chapter 2

**Just finished. I think it still needs some editing, feel free to review!**

**Chapter 2**

Anya woke to the sound of voices, rushing and urgent. She made her feet carry her to the cabin door, shyly taking a peek out. People all around carried suitcases and travel bags, official tickets and documents clutched behind worn, tired fingers. The ship had docked.

Time to go.

Anya hurriedly changed into dark, inconspicuous clothes. She yanked her dark red hair back into a sloppy bun and threw a tasseled winter hat over it all. Everything else got zipped away into her backpack.

There was a predicament.

Anya didn't have papers. A passport. Anything really. She had stowed away and found an empty cabin, hiding in plain sight. Getting on the boat was easy, Russia had pretty lax regulations. But America, Oregon to be precise, had so many laws; She would have to act fast.

She found a secluded spot on deck, away from people disembarking, and took her pants, underwear, socks, and shoes off. She put it all in her backpack, and tied the straps across her chest after putting it back on. She also tied the two tassels of her hat together, so the currents wouldn't rip it away. Anya climbed over the safety railings, perching on the edge for a moment. Scoping out the area. She figured she should hurry up, being half naked and all. Anya jumped over the side feet first, breath held, eyes tightly shut.

The salt water engulfed her. It was freezing, but not too cold for her. An itchy sensation crawled over the inner sides of her legs, which she held close together. She felt the skin knit together, intertwining into one smooth mass. Her feet, which didn't have much arch to begin with, began to inch forward, elongating into a thin but strong membrane. A fin.

It was almost done. The slits on her neck opened, allowing her to breathe at last. A second, clear pair of eyelids slid beneath her flesh ones. Her time was getting better. Only a two minute transformation. A faint feeling of rare pride gently settled over her. If luck was on her side, nobody had seen her. No screams erupted anywhere, so she assumed not. After Anya opened her eyes, she pulled a compass from around her neck, planning on traveling south, where warmer waters awaited.

She worried about her English. Anya was moderately fluent, but sometimes she feared her accent would surface, arousing questions about where she came from. She couldn't get caught by police. Authority could not find out about her condition. Rusalka. Selkie. Mermaid. Русалка. She had heard everything. So far, only strangers and mis trustworthy people had seen her legs. Criminals. People that were easy to get away from, and would only be called crazy or liars.

But if caught by authorities, she would be finished; Sent away to live in a test tube while a swarm of scientists examined her until she died.

Anya couldn't allow herself to be caught.

Darkness had fallen above the water. Anya had been swimming for hours. She tentatively surfaced, hungry and tired. The coast was only a few yards away. She swam partially out of the water for the last few feet, giving her gills and eyelids a chance to return to normal. She lifted herself out of the water onto a rock with her arms, curling up on dry land. Now came the hard part.

It took much longer for her tail to revert back into legs than it did for her legs to join into a tail. She had to be mostly dry from the waist down, and since all of her absorbent belongings were wet, she would have to let the water evaporate. And she couldn't walk anywhere. Damn.

Anya dragged herself over to the treeline, searching for some type of shelter. Tiny pieces of dead plants and dirt stuck to her damp clothes and body. The ground was rough, branches and rocks littered the forest floor. No morning light shone from the east, allowing her a few hours of invisibility under the blackness. She sat at the base of a tree,pulled out a sweater from her backpack, and sat on it. Anya didn't plan on waking up with two legs and leaves in her ass.

The moon was nearly full, shedding enough light for her to discern shapes from the darkness. The tree she sat against had a short and thick trunk, and a huge canopy of pointed leaves so dense she couldn't see the branches. Myrtlewood. Found in southern Oregon and northern California. Anya doubted she had made it all the way to California yet. Must still be in Oregon. She decided to have a look around whatever town was nearest in the morning, maybe find some food. She was very hungry.

A starry sky shone down through the lacy foliage. The long swim had tired her out. It was difficult to get comfortable against the hard tree, but eventually exhaustion won out comfort, and she fell into a fitful sleep.


End file.
